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By Root 629 0

floor or the chicken bones in greasy napkins and the half-filled takeout boxes still on the coffee table, not even the collection agency call. Another maxed-out credit card, she explains, hanging up, one more mess of Bob's left behind. It's so hard now, having to watch every penny, buying store brands when, before, she'd just grab whatever she wanted off the shelf, not having a clue what anything cost. Of course, she can't just blame him, she sees that now, how spoiled they both were, taking everything for granted. That's the problem growing up with money: hard times came and they just kept on spending; it's so confusing, such a helpless feeling, not having control anymore of the most basic things in life, which is why she always reads the price tags to Lyra. She may be only three, but Robin wants her to know the value of things and not feel entitled. And having to scrape by makes Robin appreciate life even more. She wakes up every morning, knowing what a gift each new day is. It really is.

Yes, and for him, too. Especially now that he's flush. He's never had this much money in his pocket. Tonight, he brought dinner over: KFC. The simplest things delight her.

The past is like a dream, she is saying, and once a dream is over, it's gone, right? What's important is living in the moment. This, the right here and now, she declares with such intensity that as he sinks into her blue gaze he knows he'd do anything for her, anything. It's taken her years to see this, she says. Her mother worries that she may be over-medicated. Instead of just drifting along on Prozac and Xanax, she should be talking to someone, a counselor. The very suspicious Mrs. Shawcross called her daughter a little while ago with the name of a therapist her hairdresser recommended.

“She says I'm just existing, not dealing with anything, but that's okay. As long as my children are happy and I'm here with them, what more do I need?”

“What's she want you to do?” he asks, uneasily.

“Oh, just love my husband,” she says with a forced lilt. Her daughter sits at her feet, watching television.

“What else?”

“Live happily ever after.” She sighs.

“Yeah?”

“It's kinda way past that now.”

He met her mother a few days ago when he stopped by with two boxes of cookies. He had remembered Robin's saying money was so tight right now with Bob in the hospital and no more sick time, that she could barely afford treats for the children.

“Aren't you sweet!” Robin said, patting his cheek through the doorway.

Suddenly Mrs. Shawcross appeared, her narrowed eyes cued to the distrust in his.

He and Robin were quick friends. Two old souls, she likes to say. His head spins listening, trying to keep up. He blinks. Sparks in her voice, veering from topic to topic. His heart races. Images flash into mind, churning thoughts, twisted metal and broken glass, goose feathers red with blood, the black arch of a penciled eyebrow. No way, he keeps thinking. Not this time.

Trusting, she holds nothing back. Her truth is childlike in its raw purity. Not like nervous Nora, all that money and still can't have what she wants. She doesn't stand a chance. No wonder, he thinks, hating the two men. Robin is talking about her husband's drinking. This time when he gets out he'll stay sober, swears he will. Still thinks he can, she says with a sigh.

“He doesn't deserve you,” he snaps, resenting her concern for the weak bastard.

“It's not just him. Poor Bob, he doesn't want to hear it, and I can't say it.”

“What? Say what?” His fidgety fingers twist and turn.

She stares at him. “It's such a mess.”

“So do something about it.” Hard to hide his impatience. Just an old friend, she said when he asked who Hammond was, the guy in the bar that night.

“I know. I have to. I know that.” She looks down a moment, troubled.

“Can I help? What can I do?”

“No. Same thing, it's me.” She sighs. “Just gotta get my act together, that's all.”

Lyra changes the channel and they sit quietly for a while, watching another cartoon. Robin seems lost in thought. She often does this, the half smile, staring as if she is suddenly